Question of the day

I'm not sure what sent me off onto this tangent, but for the past half hour, I've been mulling the question of how the heck ANY deaf person learns how to speak spoken English. It's not like it's the first time I've ever wondered this, but I still don't get it.

Take the word paradigm. Who'd know from looking at it that the g is silent? The Thames River - who'd know that the Brits don't say the th and they say it Taaames? What about Thai being Taai instead of THai? How 'bout the word entourage? I can't describe it properly, but the beginning is aaan, not en, and the final a is very broad. Not obvious from the looks of the word, is it? I vividly recollect Mom correcting me because I'd Gallicized my pronounciation of carafe, which is a French word in origin - butBUTbut it's one of the few that didn't retain its original pronounciation after making its way to English. To speak English, you've gotta know pronounciation rules from the following languages: French, Spanish, British English, a smattering of German, some Native American tongues, as well as plain ole American English. And that's not all. On top of that, you gotta know when to apply what set of rules.

I can still hear the criticism from a childhood speech teacher because I didn't say San Jose properly. I did not make the common mistake of Anglicizing the pronounciation, but I remember resisting the criticism. I did eventually grudgingly pronounce "Hosay" to please the teacher. It wasn't until I was an adult that I realized I was right all along. Y'see, I had had a local accent, and the speech teacher was from somewhere outta state. A few years ago, I was talking with someone who grew up in San Jose and she said everyone said it "sanna ZAY" quickly. That resonated with me, and I realized that's how I'd grown up saying it until I was told I was wrong. The next time I saw my mother, I asked her how she said San Jose, and she gave me the proper Spanish pronounciation of "San Hosay." I simply responded, "No you don't," which sent her into splutters. After said spluttering quieted down, I said, "sanna ZAY," and pointed out that was how she'd said it all my life. The question mark over her head was comically clear, and she started alternating pronounciations to see which sounded more right. After a few minutes, she paused and nodded, saying "sanna ZAY." *nodding my head with satisfaction* I KNEW it.

Pronounciation is not the only issue here - it's more complicated than that. You gotta know which syllable to stress when, and it changes, depending on your tone and on whether you're asking a question or giving an order. The cadence and speed varies from region to region, from the clipped notes of New England to the rolling drawly y'alls of the Deep South to the Midwestern twang.

This whole thing touches upon so many aspects of Deafness and Deafhood, it's unbelievable. At the forefront of my mind is the thought that no matter what is done to or implanted in a non-hearing child, spoken English is never ever going to be fully accessible. This is simply because the non-hearing child will not become hearing; therefore, spoken English is not a language that the child can acquire naturally without barriers. I happen to have a facility for languages, picking up foreign tongues like a sponge, which helps with my understanding of spoken English. My first language was acquired through signs, though, which proves my point. All my languages were possible and made comprehensible first via a solid background in a fully accessible language. My mother, however, insisted on a solid understanding of spoken English, and I am probably one of the best lipreaders I know. I also don't depend on my hearing to understand the spoken word - I do it exclusively via lipreading, which is very unusual among my peers. My abilities wouldn't be possible without first having a solid foundation in a visually accessible mode of communication and secondly being lucky enough to have an innate ability to acquire and use multiple languages. Thus, I would like to posit the idea that the current practice of denying implanted children and some non-implanted children access to American Sign Language is language deprivation, and as such, a form of child abuse.